


Forever in My Dreams

by EmeraldSage



Series: The Holiday Collection [30]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: And More Fluff, Birthday Fluff, Fluff, M/M, ONE MORE TO GO!, Prompt Day 30: Russia's Birthday, RusAmeHoliday, Sorry it's so late, celebrating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-30
Updated: 2016-12-30
Packaged: 2018-09-13 13:09:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9125140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmeraldSage/pseuds/EmeraldSage
Summary: RusAme Holiday Prompt #30: Russia's Birthday





	

**Author's Note:**

> Please don't be mad at me. I literally wrote this in half an hour. I don't have any more time than that right now.

            The soft scent of cooking pastry and caramelized apples wove itself through the house outside the suburbs of St. Petersburg. The house was like many others on its street, decorated with a soft credit to the holiday season arriving soon after the Western World turned away from the jolly time of year. There was a wreath on the door, candles in the house, and a tree, although somewhat bare at the moment, visible through the curtains in the main living room. What made the house different was its occupants, and what one of the occupants was currently doing for himself.

            Ivan Braginsky contemplated the holiday season amongst many other things as he prepared some of the food for his birthday tomorrow. It was very unlike a nation as old as he was to celebrate something as common and frequent as a birthday, but he had to admit, experience celebrating alone was usually why he chose against celebrating at all.

            He folded the puff pastry over into a triangle, covering some of the meat inside the little fold, and sealing it together before putting it on a tray with the others and examining it critically. He nodded to himself, slipped the tray into the oven, and set it to cook. He moved to grab the other tray of cooking items and began his work, mind, for the most part, focused on his task. The other, on the other hand, was concentrated on the reason why he was celebrating his birthday when he usually had a habit of ignoring the fact it existed anyways (like many other nations, including China who got drunk every time he had to think about how old he was and how many nations he’d once known that didn’t exist any longer; it scared the nation more than he would ever let on to anyone else if he hadn’t been drunk at the time he’d told Ivan).

            He would be celebrating it with his lover this year.

            He felt a smile threatening to rise to his lips and he pushed it down. He usually would try to invite his sisters to his birthday celebration, back when he cared about celebrating it, and perhaps making it into a bigger deal than it should have been. But, especially after the USSR had fallen, they had stopped coming. He had gotten used to the solitude. But this year, he wouldn’t be alone. He had a very special guest who had flown in only a few hours ago, against his boss’s wishes at that, to spend his birthday and Christmas with him.

            No sooner had he thought about the beautiful blond asleep in his bedroom than he heard soft, clumsy, stumbling steps coming towards him from that direction. A pair of arms, more slender than his own but his only true equal in strength, wrapped around him and he could feel a face bury itself in his back. “What smells so good?” was half slurred into his sweater, and he could feel the yawn that his American counterpart didn’t even bother trying to suppress.

            Even before Alfred had opened his mouth, he had known that it was a wonderful smell that had dragged his lover from his much needed rest, and he couldn’t help the amused smile that lifted his lips when he thought of it. Alfred was something of a “foodie,” in the American’s own words. It still made him proud that his cooking was good enough to incite such a Pavlovian response within his lover (and wasn’t quite ashamed to say he’d taken advantage of it before).

            “It’s the piroshky I’m making for my birthday tomorrow,” he explained to his sleepy lover, lips quirking as Alfred simply yawned and buried his face further into the warmth of Ivan’s thick, cable-knit sweater. He sighed in equal measures of fondness and exasperation; he still had to make the rest of the dishes they would eat tomorrow, along with the cake he had to start from scratch and set to bake. The moment he tried to move, however, he had an Alfred-koala attached to his back. He maneuvered rather expertly, though nonetheless, with some difficulty, around his kitchen to finish the dishes he wanted to prepare.

            After a little while, by the time he’d finished most of his cooking, there was a soft rustling behind him, and he could hear Alfred shifting.

            “I would offer to help you if I knew you woulnd’t say no,” was mumbled into his back, and he felt a smile curl on his lips. He had lectured the American quite extensively on the traditions of birthday celebrations amongst his people, and that included the once celebrating doing all the hard work in preparation for the big day. He’d nearly booted the American out of the kitchen – and sometimes the house – when he got _too_ helpful, his natural Southern hospitality taking over and infecting him, as Alfred would later say to him, slightly embarrassed, in that deep southern accented drawl that he loved very much (for various reasons). He shook his thoughts and his hands off to dry them before turning around to wrap his now-clean arms around the younger nation. The sleepy teenage nation sunk into his warm embrace gladly, and he took in his lover’s sleep ruffled appearance, feeling the beginnings of lust burn and curl in his gut. He shoved those thoughts away, knowing his beloved was still sleepy and in need of rest if he was going to be up and out with Ivan all day tomorrow, so soon after a marathon of flights, meetings, and all around stress. In all honesty, Alfred wasn’t even supposed to be in Russia this year, what with all the tensions going on in his country. But he had snuck out anyways.

            Alfred shuffled in his arms, and soon, he was peering at tired, but warm, sky blue eyes. He was gifted with a soft, warm, loving smile and dipped his head to press their foreheads together. They smiled.

            “ _Good morning, Vanya,_ ” his lover said softly, and the Russian felt warmth, both soft love and burning lust, infuse him at the sound of his prideful love using his language so casually, carelessly, and fluidly as if it were his own. It sounded as smooth as English did on the American nation’s tongue, though most likely not as flawless as one of his native tongues that most of the world presumed the young superpower to have forgotten. The larger nation knew better.

            “ _It is evening here, solnyshko_ ,” he said dryly, amused, “ _You should know. Your flight came in in the late afternoon._ ” Alfred scrunched his nose up and curled closer to the taller nation.

            “ _It’s morning back home,_ ” he protested strongly, managing to look mildly imposing despite his rumpled state and sleepy, half-awake glare, “ _That means it’s morning until I wake up properly,_ ” he added stubbornly, and Ivan laughed. It wasn’t a chuckle, or soft laugh, but a deep, belly laugh that had only been brought on through the sheer stubbornness his lover exuded. It wasn’t something particularly unusual for Alfred to say, but they hadn’t had this kind of a discussion in _ages_.

_It’s been too long…_

            He drew Alfred away from the slowly cooking food and the slight chill of the living room, towards the bedroom where they had some more fun activities in mind. And he was the “birthday boy,” according to his lover, which meant that he had some very nice things coming to him once midnight hit and he could finally celebrate.

            He wondered absently, if he would dream of Alfred again this year when he went to sleep. He wondered if the ring he’d seen in the last one would make a reappearance.

            Either way, despite the chaos that the end of the year always brought on amongst the people and nations of the world, their long weekend would be a good one.


End file.
